


To Go

by superstringtheory



Series: hungry heart [5]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Burping, F/M, Feeding Kink, I mean there are no genitals but Jughead eating like this is def porn in my book, Porn Video, Stuffing, Teasing, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: 1 large pizza + 2L of CokeBetty's away for the weekend, what is Jughead to do?





	To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgent piece of trash I've ever created.

It’s a matter of pride, is what he tells himself. It’s wanting to do a thing, and then doing it, to hell with the consequences. And if the consequences involve jacking off to the feel of your gut swollen, pressing up against your fist, achingly full with overindulgence, then so be it. 

 

It starts with Betty- but doesn’t it all? She’s the sun he orbits around and the stars he navigates by. He’d do anything to make her happy. And if it makes him happy too- the better. 

 

*** 

 

There’s one thing Jughead knows will make Betty happy no matter what: and that’s when he’s eating. Moreso, when he’s full, sated and sleepy and so glutted that he couldn’t leave her sight even if he wanted to. 

 

When they first started dating, he thought it was just an anxiety thing- Betty always wanting to make sure he was okay, make sure he was fed and safe. But then he saw the way her eyes lit up when he’d go for seconds or watch her gaze follow the motion of his hand as he put away a large plate of fries. He’d also heard the hint of disappointment in her voice when he’d claimed fullness, and then the excitement when he’d reapply himself with a demure, “Maybe there’s still a little more room.” 

 

So there was no surprise when it turned out that sure, keeping Jughead safe and fed made her happy, but stuffing him to the gills made her squirm and blush-- and Jughead would do pretty much anything to see her like that. 

 

*** 

 

Since then, he’s let her take the lead- let her take him out to eat and order for him, let her feed him whole pizzas and endless chicken wings and once, a whole pie. Had her crawl all over him deliciously in bed, chugged melted ice cream until he could only lie there, letting Betty’s hands rove all over him, soothing his overindulgence. 

 

It’s starting to show. He’s never had a six-pack or defined musculature like Archie; there’s always been a certain softness to his physique, if not a hinted propensity towards a little something extra. 

 

Now, he’s had to move his belt out a notch-- or two-- and when he sees photos of himself where he’s looking down, his chin does a bit of doubling. There’s a handful of pudge right below his belly button that Betty can’t get enough of grabbing and pinching, and when he’s stuffed full, her pupils blow out and she loses her capacity for speech in full sentences. 

 

Today, he’s wearing a pair of black suspenders and his too-tight jeans, and if he pushes his stomach out, he can see what it’d be like to be fat, to have a real gut that spilled out between the twin towers of his suspenders, and it makes him a little hard just thinking about it. 

 

He wants Betty to see what it’d look like, too. 

 

*** 

 

Jughead considers buffets and big steaks and gallons of ice cream. While all of these options are appealing in their own way, he can’t stop thinking about something simple: a large pizza and a two-liter of Coke. 

 

Once, he’d given himself a case of the overfull hiccups after Betty’d fed him a pint of Chubby Hubby ice cream, and he was amazed to see that it made her blush harder than almost anything else. 

 

“This?” he’d asked between hiccups, patting his gut to soothe it, “This gets you?” and she’d nodded and ducked her head. Later, he’d received a text message from her explaining how all of the noises he made drove her crazy. 

 

_ I love it when you’re so full you just can’t help it _ , she’d typed, and so that became a good yardstick for him to determine just how much he should eat. He’d noticed his capacity increasing, so instead of measuring by burgers or pizzas, now when he’s with Betty, he eats until he can hardly breathe around the mass of his gut, until he gets the hiccups and has to hide burps behind his hand. 

 

He thinks for a bit, then texts Betty as he’s pulling a t-shirt over his head and threading his arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

 

**Jughead Jones:** _cheese or pepperoni?_

 

She’s typing back right away, and a GIF appears, a dark haired little girl in a taco shell commercial, and he laughs. 

 

**Jughead Jones:** _much as I’d like both, I’ve got other plans. A 2 liter of Coke_

 

Betty sends back the embarrassed face emoji, then types. 

 

**Betty Cooper:** _Are you trying to kill me?_

 

**Jughead Jones:** _it’s the least I can do while you’re away_

 

Betty sends a little devil emoji, followed by a string of pizza slices. 

 

**Betty Cooper:** _You tease. I expect video. Please, dear god, take a video._

 

**Jughead Jones:** _ ;) _

 

Truly, it is the least he can do while Betty’s with the other girls on a cheerleading retreat. 

 

*** 

 

He picks up the pizza and 2 liter to go. The thought that the cashier probably thinks he’s there to pick up food for a party or something makes him feel tingly. He’s sure no one is expecting him to take the pizza home and eat it all himself in one sitting, then wash it down with a family-sized soda. 

 

By the time he gets back to the trailer, the anticipation is killing him. It’s a little later than he normally eats dinner, and now that he’s been eating more on a regular basis, his stomach seems confused about why it’s not full yet. 

 

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he tells it when it growls. “There’s plenty to go around.” 

 

He kicks off his shoes by the door and considers, then doesn’t bother with a plate or a glass for his meal. There’s something slyly gluttonous about eating right out of the box and guzzling soda from the bottle, and he thinks Betty will enjoy it. 

 

Jughead angles his arm out from his body for both a forward and then a sideways beginning photo to send to Betty. 

 

_ Without the shirt? Pretty please? _ She messages back immediately, and Jughead grins as he pulls off his shirt, then snaps another photo, this time with a piece of pizza held up to his mouth. 

 

_ Couldn’t wait? _ Betty asks.  _ So greedy. Now don’t forget the video, mister. Ugh. I have to go do a team-building exercise and Cheryl’s on the warpath, so I have to leave my phone. :( But I can’t wait to watch later.  _

 

Jughead takes a swig of Coke and considers. Well, as long as he’s going to put on a show… he better put on a damned good one. 

 

*** 

 

He props his phone up against a few hardcover books on the coffee table and fiddles around with it until he finds a good angle. He’ll never tell Betty, not even under oath, but once she asked him to start her music playlist in the car while she was driving and he happened to see another playlist of her liked youtube videos. Almost all of them had thumbnails of large-bellied guys with hands on their guts, with video titles like “Donut stuffing” or “Buffet belly,” and some internet sleuthing later led Jughead to learn all about this niche community of Youtube that Betty seems to frequent. 

 

He’ll admit it, since he found out, he’s seen a few videos himself and he’s been itching to test out some of the things he’s watched to see what effect it’ll have on his girlfriend. 

 

Tonight seems like the perfect opportunity. 

 

So he makes sure that the camera captures the optimal angle of chin-to-belly and then hits “record.” 

 

*** 

 

The first two or three slices go down easily, along with the first third of so of the Coke. He was hungry, after all, and he certainly hasn’t been denying himself lately. 

 

“God, I was so hungry,” he tells the camera with a wink, knowing that it really gets Betty when he talks about this kind of thing. He starts chewing on another slice and talks around it. “Just can’t help myself when I’m this hungry.” 

 

He pauses to take a long drink from the Coke bottle once he’s finished the slice, and then belches into his fist. 

 

“Not full yet,” he says cheerily, and lifts the next slice to the camera like a toast, and winks. 

 

Two slices later, and he’s struggling. Maybe he underestimated just how much Betty helps him usually, with her sweet encouragement and her belly rubs and that certain look in her eye. 

 

“Sure could use a belly rub right about now,” he tells the camera, and winces as his overtaxed stomach muscles stretch a little when he scoots forward to show off how full he’s getting. He pats his gut and burps a few times, but it doesn’t help much. 

 

“Guess I’ll have to undo these,” he says casually, and moves a little closer so that Betty will get a close up of his tight jeans and the way he has to suck in a little bit to get them unbuttoned. 

 

“Maybe next time,” Jughead says, “I’ll have to just pop the button off.” He pauses to let that statement sink in, then lets himself moan a little as his belly helps the zipper of his jeans unzip. 

 

“God,” he says. “That feels so much better.” He reaches forward to grab another slice, and takes a big bite, washing it down with a few long gulps of Coke. 

 

“All my pants are getting tight,” he says conversationally around bites of pizza. “Think I’m starting to get a little chubby.” He thumbs the last bit of crust into his mouth and grins, thinking about how that’s going to drive Betty crazy. 

 

Jughead looks down then to see how his gut has spilled forward to fill the space he’d freed in his waistband, and gives a chagrined smile. 

 

“Well, maybe more than a little.” 

 

*** 

 

After that, he realizes that although the pizza’s almost gone, he’s been neglecting the soda bottle, which might prove harder later on. It’s full to just above the halfway point, so he makes sure to make eye contact with the camera. 

 

“Home stretch after this.” He lifts it to his mouth and guzzles, holding the bottle with one hand while soothing his belly with the other. 

 

He sets it down with a gasp and a little moan, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. 

 

Jughead releases a long breath that ends on a deep hiccup. 

 

“Really wish you were here to help with this last bit, Betts.” 

 

He tips the pizza box up towards the camera to show that there are two slices left, then raises the soda bottle as well to show it at just above a third left. 

 

“I’ve gotta lean back for a minute, though,” he admits, and arches his back to take a little pressure off his gut. “This thing is starting to get pretty tender.” He pats at his belly, then scratches it lightly with his fingernails. 

 

He lets out a series of deeply unsatisfying little burps and hiccups, but then, after a minute or two of rubbing, he belches, long and low, and it feels better immediately. He works at it for a while longer, until he burps a few more times and finishing the rest feels reasonable rather than insurmountable. 

 

“Okay, Betts,” he says, staring down the camera. “This last one’s for you.” 

 

*** 

 

Admittedly, he has to take a few more breaks during the last bit to let out a few moans he can’t seem to help and burps and hiccups he can’t stifle. 

 

“This has been fun,” he says, belatedly raising his hand to his mouth to cover another belch, “but next time, I definitely need your help.” Jughead shoves the last crust of pizza into his mouth and breathes heavily around the solid weight of his belly. 

 

It feels like there’s a not un-large antelope sitting on his middle, or like being bear-hugged from the inside out. His stomach gurgles unhappily and he rubs at it a little, trying to replicate the little circular motions Betty’s fingers do so well. 

 

“Just a few swallows left,” he promises, although it sounds slightly half-hearted even to his own ears. Besides, that’s stretching the truth somewhat- it could certainly be a few swallows, if one took long guzzles-- which, now that he thinks about it, might be the best option. 

 

“Bottoms up,” he says, and then all he can think about is swallowing until it’s finally gone, eyes shut, focused on the sensation of his gut swelling even further. 

 

Jughead breaks off of the soda bottle top with an audible pop, and lets the empty vessel drop to the floor, utterly spent. He has to lean back even further now, his stomach is so tender to the touch. 

 

“God,” he moans, knowing exactly what he must look like, glutted, filled up completely to the brim. 

 

Jughead takes a few more minutes of video solely for Betty’s titillation, although they’re perhaps a little more lackluster than he would’ve liked. He’s just so  _ full  _ it’s all he can think about. It uses all of his effort just to sit up and scoot closer to the edge of the couch so that the camera can focus in on the dome of his belly, and so that Betty will be able to see that there’s very little give to it when he presses his fingers into it. 

 

That way she can also see how it jumps with a set of overstuffed hiccups, and catch a glimpse of his blurred chin when he leans over even a bit more to finish up the video. 

 

“Can’t wait until you get back, Betts. Because if this is what I can do alone… ” he signs off, “... just think what I could do if you were here.” 

 

***** 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at superstringtheory.tumblr.com. I love chatting about chubby headcanons, Bughead, and how inherently kinky the classic Archie comics are.


End file.
